


what dread hand

by verdenal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdenal/pseuds/verdenal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the kink meme prompt: Hannibal/Will, blindfolds. Will can't look into people's eyes, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	what dread hand

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Blake's "The Tyger" because I am a monster.

That the blindfold is Will’s idea makes it that much better.

“I’m not,” he had said, perched on the edge of the bed, “I don’t do well with eye contact.” His left hand twitched by his thigh. Were Hannibal a better man, he would have seen the terror in Will’s eyes and refused.

Hannibal, instead, took a tie from his closet and wound it around Will’s head; his eyes fluttered closed even before the fabric had slipped over them. “Do not move,” Hannibal told him. “The knot will not hold otherwise.” Even now, undressed and unseeing, Will does not move. Hannibal can see the faint tremors moving under his skin, how his muscles flutter, and he licks his lips. An indulgence, but one he will permit.

“Relax,” he tells Will. 

“I’m about as relaxed as I can be,” Will bites out, “given that I have no idea what you’re going to do to me.”

Hannibal bites back his smile. “Relax, dear Will,” he says again. “Concentrate. This is no crime scene,” and Will chuckles at that, but there is no levity in the sound. “But,” Hannibal continues, “perhaps it would help you to think of it as one.”

Will nods, swallows, and Hannibal’s gaze rakes the line of his throat. His breathing slows, and the tremors with them. Hannibal’s hands rest on Will’s shoulders for a moment, then skate down his arms. He sees Will’s jaw work as he tries to visualize Hannibal’s hands on him.

“Talk,” Hannibal says. Will exhales once, sharply.

“I don’t know what exactly you want me to say,” he admits.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hannibal assures him, “just talk. It will help you relax.” Will nods incrementally.

Hannibal kneels, then, still in his suit, and places one hand on either of Will’s knees. The flesh under his palms is warm and firm as he slides his hands up Will’s thighs.

“You’re,” Will says, “you’re being careful. It’s as though you’re exploring,” his halting narration cuts off as Hannibal eases his legs apart. He doesn’t start up again until after Hannibal lowers his head to the tender meat of Will’s inner thigh, and presses his open mouth against it. His teeth scrape against Will’s skin as he mouths up to the juncture of thigh and hip, where sweat has begun to bead. Hannibal flicks his tongue out, savors the taste.

“Are you licking me?” Will asks, but doesn’t wait for Hannibal to answer.

“No,” he says, drawing the word out, and for a moment Hannibal thinks Will’s made the impossible leap and he is suffused with pride, but Will continues, “you’re just being careful with me. You’re being gentle.” Will pauses there, and he clenches the sheet in his hands.

“I’m not a child, you know,” he snaps. “I don’t need you to, to coddle me. This isn’t a therapy session.”

“I am not coddling you,” Hannibal promises him. “Keep talking,” he orders, as he pushes Will’s thighs further apart, and feels the tension in his muscles drain away.

“You’re waiting for something.” Hannibal edges closer. “You want me to say something, you want me to guess.” He dips his head until his mouth is just centimeters from the head of Will’s cock. “No, you don’t think I don’t know, you just want me to say it out loud. Do you think I can’t say it out loud? Or, or are you waiting for me to tell you what to do, but you said talk, not give orders. Oh, ok, it’s that you enjoy this—the waiting, the anticipation. You’re smiling, but you won’t laugh.”

Hannibal smirks, and leans forward to take Will into his mouth. He presses his tongue to the underside of Will’s cock; the skin there is smooth and sweat-salted, and under his hand Will’s thigh shakes.

“You’re not, you’re not trying to draw this out.” One hand stays on Will’s thigh while the other comes up to cup his balls. “But, but you could move faster, too. You want to keep me talking,” Will chokes out as Hannibal starts to suck him in relative earnest, his hand moving to stroke at the base.

“You’re enjoying yourself, but you like me talking more.” Will sounds breathless, but that could be contributed to any number of factors. Hannibal has barely done anything at all, it seems, certainly nothing incredible, and Will is already close. He hasn’t been touched in a long time. Hannibal is not sure that he is the first, but he is the first in a long while. 

Will has kept up his litany of observations as Hannibal sucks him, pulling his head back to swirl his tongue around the head of Will’s cock. He’s close; Hannibal can feel it in the fluttering of Will’s thighs. His hips jerk forward, and Will keeps talking.

“It’s the observations. The empathy. That-that’s what you find erotic. You want me to see what you see, to feel what you feel. It’s the connection, that’s it.” His voice breaks into a moan on the last word as he comes. Hannibal swallows, and though he does not necessarily like the taste he appreciates the sentiment. 

He pulls off of Will’s cock with a wet sound, and looks up at him. Will’s eyes are heavy-lidded, and he’s breathing hard. His body is flushed and damp with sweat, and Hannibal scoots back on his knees to get a better view. It’s glorious. Will is a beautiful specimen of a man, all laid out for Hannibal like this. His mouth waters.

He stands and spares another minute to stare at Will’s naked form, perfect and clean-lined as a medical diagram, before he unwinds the tie from around Will’s eyes. Their gazes lock and Hannibal notes with smirk how Will’s eyes flicker down to Hannibal’s erection and then back up, and the guilty flush that follows.

“It was about the connection,” Will repeats. “You want me to feel what you feel.” Hannibal says nothing. Will looks away and everything is still for a moment.

For a moment, Hannibal thinks that this is it. Will looks back at him, his eyes sliding away from Hannibal’s, and there’s a light of recognition in his eyes. 

A smile breaks out across his face, awkward and out of place, and Hannibal realizes he has won.


End file.
